


Dreamboy and Ducks

by kellipsis



Series: 12th Doctor's Adventure with Craig Ferguson [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Fake News RPF
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellipsis/pseuds/kellipsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig Ferguson knew Peter Capaldi since 17 in a band called Dreamboy. However, their first adventure happened earlier than he could remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Killer Ducks

**Author's Note:**

> Based on marvelous comic strips(http://dingproceed.tumblr.com/). Peter Capaldi as the Doctor. Craig Ferguson as the companion. I've just finished reading Ep 2, and have no idea how the plot will go in comics.
> 
> Rated "Teen and up" for the swearing, the drug-taking, and alcoholism. But NO violence or sex involved. Might involving vulgar language or jokes.
> 
> And, meet the casts:  
> Peter Capaldi (born in 1958) as 12th Doctor.  
> Craig Ferguson (born in 1962) as the companion.
> 
> Some of the scenarios are based on Craig Ferguson's auto biography . But the story is TOTALLY MADE-UP.

 

> 「We were heading home across the gothic expanse of Kelvingrove Park just as the acid began to kick in. It was powerful stuff--I had tripped many times before and never been close to the intensity of this. The Victorian statues in the tree-lined roads followed us with their eyes, the wind in the leaves was whispering vague sinister threats, and mysterious ripples bubbled up from the myriad of dark ornamental ponds.」
> 
> ——American On Purpose
> 
> PS: Seriously, the last sentence includes "living statues", "whispering winds" and "pond".

* * *

_Quark._

A tumbling feet stepped into the puddle when the traffic light turned red in this pitch-black night. The owner of it was incredibly young, bony, confused, and obviously, frighted.

It started to rain.

"What fucking hell is..." He swore, waving his arms like a drowning person, and stuck his tongue out. "Cold." He comment, with a noticeable Scottish accent and drunken voice.

The traffic light turn green, reflected by the mist at night. The world was green.

 

_Quark. Quark._

"Robbie!" He shouted, as if shouting his friend's name out could give him more courage. A smaller figure received and proceed this audio signal with his only consciousness left. "Craig!" He shouted back, tripped on a rock and fell into a dirty puddle. "Ducks!" Robbie cheered, with no absolute reason.

"No! " The taller one replied, terrified. "Killer Ducks!"

And both of them bursted into a good laugh. The laugh didn't take long, as it sounded like a old-jolly chuckling mixing a desperate crying when it ended.

 

_Quark. Quark. Quark._

The rain poured harder. Two young men, clearly on drugs, both wore black and wearing eyeliners, both petrified, walked clumsily in midnight Park, trying to run away from ducks.

The taller one suddenly turned to another direction and started to ran like crazy, losing his companion far behind. "Where y'r going?" The shorter one roared, standing alone in the frozen rain.

 

_Quark. Quark. Quark. Quark._

Two shadows, staring at the taller young man tumbling toward the end of the lane.

The traffic light turned red. The whole world was on fire.

It was in 1983, Glasgow.

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Peter Who

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is emerging in my mind.  
> Looking forward to your R&Rs!  
> Minty green pants are cool!  
> And I need a villain...

 

> 「I still sometimes wish I were back there--eighteen, nineteen, twenty years old, the whole world in front of you, a seemingly consequence-free intake of alcohol and drugs in copious amounts, and the inevitability of megastardom just around the corner.
> 
> It was at this time I heard the first blast of the trumpet. The overture to the madness that was coming.」
> 
> ——American On Purpose

 

* * *

 

It's being a long while since the last time a conversation was actually "going on" in the TARDIS console room.

"You know, " Craig Ferguson, who was leaning on the handrail around the console room, a pair of sunglasses on his nose, and a sparking alien-flower wreath changing colors on his head, ask with an indifferent voice, "What time it is, Doctor?"

"Oh, not again..." The Doctor, who was doing some god-knows-what fixing down under, rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't ..."

"It's email and tweet time!" There's a sense of psychotic and passionate vitality in it, almost musical.

"Stop it, Craig!" The Doctor looked up helplessly, the only thing he could see is his remarkably distinguish minty-green pants.

"An email is from LA, USA, on a planet called 'the Earth'. " His late-night-talk-show-host companion continued as if he was still in his studio. "Have you ever been planet earth? Nice place indeed. I grew up there!"

"Oh, Shut the fuck up!" The Doctor was annoyed. No doubt.

"Hey! Watch your tongue, young man! It's a family show after all! " The comedian sounded more annoyed than the alien. "And, and I have to do that! You only answer ONE question a day! And the first question was 'Are you the doctor?' The second was 'When you say question, you mean how long?' You smart ass!"

A faint smile emerged around the Doctor's lips, and vanished in a flash.

"I saw that! " Somehow Craig was almost pressing his face against the transparent floor. "Ya little sneaky smile! You're clever than me, but it doesn't mean I'm an easily-fooled earth girl! "

The Doctor held his smile back, greeted his companion with a encouraging voice, "Continue." He said.

Craig rose up from the floor, "A guy called himself Craig Ferguson asked: Dear Doctor, Who are you? "

There was a moment of absolute "awkward pause" in the room, till the Doctor asked in reply, detachedly, " You know who I am, Craig. You've know me all your life."

"Oh, Yes. I know Peter Capaldi since 17. And one day he turned out to be a fictional character in a bloody sic-fi TV show." Craig waved his hand dramatically, as if he was throwing some punchlines to his audiences. "I think I have the right to know, at least. Whether you're the Peter I know, or the Pure Doctor, like the one in that episode Human Nature: The Tenth turned into John Smith, a total human. Not until got the watch could he become the Doct... "

"You're wasting your question of the day." The Doctor walked up, whisked off some invisible dust on the console pillar, emotionlessly. "I'll tell you someday, Craig. It's a timey-wimey thing. I'm really sorry. Now, what's the reading?"

"Two circles and a stick?" Craig described exactly what he saw, confusingly.

"Two circles and a Stick!" The Doctor cheered. "Couldn't be better. Now..." He turned to his companion & possibly life-long friend. "You can get another question today. And we're going for a ride, shall we?"

"...Fine." Craig compromised, "And! My alternate question is...Why did we traveled in peace? For now, all sightseeings! No running or fighting or even a thing like that! The closest one was a bar fight! And we just watched!"

"Like you're still capable of those." The Doctor smirked, not even bothered to look at his complaining companion. "Running like an earth girl?"

"Oi!" The mid-age Earthling felt insulted. "I might be 51 years old, and don't work out so much, ...and got a belly...But it's not about muscles! I have the craving to survive!" Then the anger took him. "Is it something like sympathy travel? For senior citizens? A cruise?"

"You don't like a cruise? "The Doctor chuckled. "And you prefer a backpack hike. Fine. Message received. Now, pull that lever."

Craig did, neatly and skillfully. The first day Craig stepped into the TARDIS, he was eager to learn how to drive. Till now, he almost mastered it. Most of the time, of course, not the days when this old girl got uneasy. In those days even the Doctor himself couldn't handle. (Probably PMS. He thought.) Oddly enough, he acquired it pretty fast, even creepily fast. And Peter, or the Doctor, who supposed to be his teacher, in fact, almost did nothing - He just stood aside with his arm crossed, watched and gave some instructions.

'Cause I'm a Whovian, perhaps. Craig took it as a reward for all those hours he spent watching the show. Just keep pushing bottoms and yanking levers. That's Amy's secret.

The old girl was luckily not in those days. She made a healthy humming sound and a healthier slippery tipping landing. This one was fiercer than the ones before. Craig thought. Fortunately I'm no longer afraid of flying any more, or I'll be the first companion who throw up inside the icon of British 50 years pop culture.

Then.

Knock.

Knock, knock.

Then BANG, bang bang.

A clearly drunken voice came from the other side of TARDIS's door.

"Anybody in? Or I'll pee at the dorr!"

Craig pushed some bottoms and looked up at the screen. A figure appeared on the screen. It was a young man, wearing black, smashing the TARDIS door with furious look. "'s zat you? Roddy yr bastarrd?"

When the young man turn to the camera, Craig stared at the screen, startled.

"For God's sake, don't just stand there. We're one someone's way to the loo!" The Doctor pushed Craig away violently, screwed some sort of knob switch on the deck, set some numbers, and yanked the lever. The TARDIS made a fierce humming sound, protesting, and landed after a minor turbulence and a squeak, like someone slammed on his brake. "Sorry." The bad driver apologized quickly, with no sorriness in his tone. "I never passed the test on parking. You know."

Criag was still in shock. He looked at the Doctor, absently. But it can't be...

The Doctor straightened his red scarf. "Better tidy up, my friend." The Doctor said. "We had a guest."

The young man, who now rushed into the toilet as soon as the TARDIS moved, was Craig Ferguson.

A very drunk Craig Ferguson in 1981.

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact: It's irresponsible to run away without noticing your family, especially when you're a mid-age man.  
> But I just had to ignore their wivies and kids. May in this universe they never exist... Sorry...
> 
> Due to personal reasons, it gonna take me a long time to finish the next chapter.
> 
> Sorry I don't know how to spell in Scottish accent! Is there any website helpful on spelling the Scottish English? PLEASE tell me if you know!


	3. A Sci-fi Marathon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don’t be such a pessimist. I'll return it when I'm finished." He took the watch, outlining those delicate Galliferians with his nails, seemly not hurry to open it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't figure out a cool villain, so, killer ducks and urban legend. I know they suck.

> Peter Capaldi was the first person I ever met where I was instantly aware I was in the presence of a star. Someone who was somehow different, with that ineffable quality of a born performer. Tall, very thin, and very handsome, fine featured with strangely pale clear skin and a shock of dyed carroty hair. Charismatic, confident, funny, and charming, he was few years older than me, which added to his glamorous air. He was dressed in black clothing that was styled to look as if he had just stepped out of a cheesy Universal science-fiction movie from the 1950s. Peter was Technicolored--an ambassador from Planet Showbiz.
> 
> ——American on Purpose

* * *

He remembered he walked out, unintended, but obediently, following his friend. With one foot outside the TARDIS, almost stepped into a rubber duck (seriously, who left a rubber duck on the floor?), Craig Ferguson found himself in 1981, in a homey, or even kitschy house.

The "Aroma” or the "smell" in the air undoubtedly belongs to 80s' - cigarette mixed with cooking smoke, a little bit weed, perhaps, depending on where you were standing; moist and musty because of bad or no air-conditioning; and, most importantly, the noticeable smell of more than one drunkard in the room.

"I believe... you know this place. " The Doctor gave an indecipherable slime, then started stroll around, unsettled, fiddling with almost everything in the room with his bony fingers. "Marvelous people - the Hendersons. Especially Mrs. Henderson, who you once thought to be the..."

"- the coolest mom on earth - and I still think so. Not a good mom, but a cool one." Craig cut in. Those memories were still fresh, as if whenever he wanted to relive those days, all he had to do is to close his eyes. And then, the smoke, the lousy music, the drink, the youth and the craziness would come back, where there were things he promised he would never touch again, things he missed so much, and things that can never be recovered. Sometimes he wishes to go back, before everything got spoiled, before he screwed up.

And now he is back.

"Oh, that's..." He wanted to say something or make some comments, but couldn't come up with even one word. "That's..." He looked around, helplessly, matching everything with every detail in his memory. "...a paradox!" He got panic. It's all real. Craig Ferguson is now literarily crossing his own timeline, which is bad, at least most of the Doctor Who episodes said so.

That's when a drunk, swearing and young Craig Ferguson staggered out of the bathroom behind him (no flushing, no hand-wash, he noticed), and bumped into an older himself.

Ok, this is where it gets complicated.

"Out'a my whay! Yr old man!" The younger version shouted rudely, and gripped Craig's jacket in a rather cheerful tone, "Yr David's friend? How could yar old man like sci-fi? You'r cool! 'gonna buy yr a pint!" He stuffed something into Craig's jacket pocket - a couple of sterlings, maybe a pound or so.

OK. I WAS a hospitable jerk. Craig sighed. He weren't going to say a word to himself. That probably causes a paradox, because he never remembered at that sci-fi marathon night talking to any grey-haired man.

Well, the young man was too drunk to remember a thing anyway.

"We are there... for movies." The Doctor interposed, lying - that's not good. "I'm a friend of Peter's - Not David’s. Where is everybody? God, I do miss this place!" And he marched into the living room, enjoying himself and giving praises. Craig followed, with a young Craig still attaching to him, staggering.

But nobody was home.

"Peter? David? Mrs. Henderson? "Young Craig walked around and shouted, “It can't be!” he cried, eyes wide-open. He started to get a little bit sober.” I just got out! No morr than 5 minutes!"

And there came a quark.

Quark.

Quark.

Quark.

There was definitely no ducks around, considering it was indoor and midnight. Craig, the sober and older one, looked back at the little rubber duck he had just stepped into, as if it was the closest thing for him that could make a quark at the moment - but there was no duck. The yellow bird with a red beak was just NOT there. It made Craig wondered whether he had stepped into an angel rubber duck, which moved when they were not staring at it.

"Hehehe, ducks." The younger Criag chuckled, he was too drunk to stand straight. So he sit down, folding his legs like a horrible Buddhist. "Ducks." He repeated and chuckled again, which made himself from the future wonder if he had taken any other baddies apart from vodka.

"They'r gone." The Doctor's look was very serious, like he was on the Dalek spaceship that day. "-Only ducks." He pulled out his sonic screwdriver, "The tricky thing about rubber ducks is, they are always absent for a few seconds when you stepped into and sit into the tub. But! But when you sit or stand still, they will show up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Older Craig asked. “Like ‘Watch out! Rubber ducks are real’?”

The Quarks stopped.

The Doctor stopped in front of the sofa, waved his screwdriver to the empty sofa. “There’s a saying that if you cannot find something for a moment, and it turned up couple of seconds later, it’s not because you got short –sighted. It’s just, it was just misplaced into another dimension.”,

Okay… Craig thought. Urban legend confirmed in Doctor Who, always about alien technology.

“Or, you are just lazy and making excuses.” The Doctor added. 

“Yer! I couldn’t find my key once.” Younger Craig suddenly replied out loud.

“That’s because you little bustard was too wasted to pick it up from the floor.” The more experienced one sneered.

When the older man was having a sort of shame conversation with the younger one, the Doctor bent his knees, tried to make a series of small jump. “That’s… Ducks’ work! ”And suddenly, he lit up the screwdriver with left hand while reaching out the other one toward the empty sofa. His right hand clearly got sunk into some invisible jell – the downer part disappeared, a ring of glowing blue light around his wrist. 

“They rushed their heads into the water and, and they just pull it out! No sign. No warning for fish! Human is fish. They never know what was pulled out from their world. Will it be returned? Or…”He pulled his hand out, with great effort. “It’s taken - FOR- GOOD!”

His hand was out, out with a young man, a young man with eyeliners.

That’s… getting more complicated.

“Okay, never expect that.” The Doctor stared at himself, or a younger version of Peter Capaldi for a while, “I thought it was David or someone else.”

“Peter!” Young Craig was clearly, happy, but obviously still drunk. “I brought Doctor Who!”

Great. That’s a pun now.

“In the year, I say, maybe 4000. When time travel and parallel universe travel was available. A bunch of hooligans, like those outlaw motorcycle club thing - they took the technology for fun.” The Doctor explained to everyone. “Capture people, rapture antiques… Well making pranks like those probing alien contacts…” He re-adjusted his screwdriver, “You’ll get that. And buy the way they call themselves DUCK, leaving quarks or rubber ducks on the scene - little bustards right? Like us.”

Two Peter and Two Craigs - one is still not sober; one is in shock and doubting all the urban legends again. And the Doctor walked toward the last one, regretfully. "Peter, I am really sorry."

Young Peter, wearing eyeliners and dark-color lipstick, gave a bazaar smile, "I couldn't be an artist, could I?" He reached out for his pocket, out took a pocket watch.

"Nah. In fact," the Doctor gave him a smirk. "Don’t be such a pessimist. I'll return it when I'm finished." He took the watch, outlining those delicate Galliferians with his nails, seemly not hurry to open it.

Craig realized he was answering his question. But still...

"And spoiler. You'll be good at acting." Abruptly, Peter opened the watch, letting the golden energy burst out violently, fulfilling the room. Craig used to watch this flamboyant special effect on TV. Now he's in it. He almost believed that this was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The golden energy tangled, emerged and gently wrapped young Peter, then, like a new level was unlocked in some puzzle game, it dispersed in a flash.

Where Peter Capaldi vanished on the planet Earth, stood the Doctor.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away for a while.  
> And now... I'll be away for a longer while...  
> PS: Please let me know if I got anything wrong! Like the dark colored lipstick...


End file.
